


Weapons Training

by ScienceFantasy93



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur also knows about Merlin's magic, Arthur is angsty, Arthur just wants to protect Merlin, Idiots in Love, M/M, Merlin is not impressed, Only they don't know they're in love, Pining, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28718835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScienceFantasy93/pseuds/ScienceFantasy93
Summary: Arthur can’t help but think that while he’s willing to die for the thousands of people who will one day be under his rule, he would sacrifice literally everything for Merlin. Camelot. His riches. Even the hot baths he luxuriously soaks in night after night. He would give it all up to see Merlin smile.It’s too bad the other boy will never know this.Or: Arthur decides to teach Merlin how to fight. This does not go well.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 246





	Weapons Training

**Author's Note:**

> So this was loosely inspired by season 1, episode 11, The Labyrinth of Gedref, where Merlin and Arthur are basically fighting over who gets to drink poison and die for the other. Somehow this plot bunny came out of that.
> 
> Enjoy!

To say that Arthur’s and Merlin’s relationship is complicated is the understatement of the goddamn century. They spend half their time trying to kill each other and the other half fighting over who gets to die for the other. Really, it’s exhausting work, and they need to stop.  
  
Arthur knows this. He’s the Crown Prince of Camelot, for fuck’s sake. He can’t be going around arguing with his servant over whether Merlin will let Arthur die to protect him. But he doesn’t care. He just can’t seem to bring himself to no longer do it. Because the truth of the matter is, he would quite literally die for Merlin. Anything to keep Merlin alive. Anything for him.  
  
Arthur would die for his kingdom in that whole _fallen-warrior-heroic-death_ sort of way. He loves Camelot, loves his people. He loves them in a way his father does not. He feels sympathy and something bordering on empathy when the harvests are poor. He greets the castle servants by name and asks after their health and that of their families. If the outlying villages of Camelot are raided by bandits, Arthur will hunt those bandits down and make sure that the victims get their comeuppance.  
  
So yes, he would die for his kingdom and his people. In his mind, if a king is willing to ask his people to die for him, but he wouldn’t do the same, then what good is he? What kind of ruler is he? Why does he even deserve to be crowned king?  
  
That’s all well and good, but Arthur can’t help but think that while he’s willing to die for the thousands of people who will one day be under his rule, he would sacrifice literally everything for Merlin. Camelot. His riches. Even the hot baths he luxuriously soaks in night after night. He would give it all up to see Merlin smile.  
  
It’s too bad the other boy will never know this.

* * *

It’s probably the eighth or ninth time that Merlin has almost died because he’s gotten himself caught in a battle that is not his own. The bandits are thick in the forest after hitting a handful of outlying villages, and Arthur and his knights – and yes, Merlin, because Arthur can’t seem to exist without Merlin anymore – are giving fierce chase. All is going well. The bandits are dropping like poisoned flies as the knights shoot their arrows at them.  
  
And then a bandit does the unthinkable. He goes for Merlin.  
  
Merlin has been hanging back, nearly out of sight. Arthur knows that Merlin can defend himself just fine, thanks to his particular brand of skills and talent. Arthur knows that Merlin’s magic can outstrip any jumped-up bandit any day. He _knows_ this. But his heart still leaps into his throat when he sees the bandit beelining on his horse towards an innocent Merlin.  
  
Arthur lets out a warning cry, but it feels as though his throat has constricting, choking off the sound. The world slows, time slipping to a stand-still. Everything is in slow motion as the bandit gallops towards Merlin, stolen sword raised in attack.  
  
Arthur reacts, not with his training but with instinct. He’s in full fucking armor but he lunges from his horse and crashes into the bandit, jarring him out of the saddle. They tumble to the ground, and Arthur isn’t sure which one of them lands harder. He hears Merlin’s shout but he’s too busy showing the bandit exactly what happens when you mess with his manservant, potential court sorcerer, and love of his life.

* * *

“You were an idiot! A dumbass! There aren’t words to describe how incredibly _stupid_ you were!” Merlin is unusually angry. Normally he takes everything in stride with a sarcastic comment, but right now he’s pacing back and forth in Arthur’s chambers, fists clenched at his sides. His normally pale cheeks are flushed red, and the tips of his ears appear to be burning as well. His bright blue eyes are dark with fury, and all Arthur can think of is how goddamn beautiful he is.  
  
He really fucking hates this.  
  
“I saved your life, all right?” Arthur says wearily from where he’s sitting on his bed. “You’re welcome.”  
  
Merlin spins around, and maybe it’s Arthur’s imagination but he thinks sparks might be emitting from Merlin’s ears. “I didn’t need you to save my life! I had it under control!”  
  
“That bandit was coming right for you, I had to stop him.”  
  
“You know I could’ve taken him out in half a second,” Merlin retorts. “I’m not _completely_ useless, after all.”  
  
“You sure as hell do a good job acting like it,” Arthur snaps back, willing himself to feel something other than…what? Adoration? Lust? Love? He’s not even sure what he’s feeling right now. All he knows is that his insides are singing because Merlin is angry at him for almost getting himself killed on the other boy’s behalf. Merlin doesn’t want him to die. And somehow that makes the sun shine a little brighter, makes the birds sing a little sweeter. Arthur really fucking hates being in love with his servant.  
  
Merlin’s jaw drops at Arthur’s words, and for a moment Arthur thinks Merlin might try to hit him. But then Merlin just says, “You’re a complete prat, you know that? You can’t be a hero for me.”  
  
“You’re right,” Arthur finds himself saying. “But you can’t use your magic to get yourself out of every situation. So I think it’s time you’ve taken up weapons training.”  
  
The look of horror on Merlin’s face almost makes up for the torture Arthur is about to put himself through. Almost.

* * *

To say that weapons training does not go well is the understatement of the goddamn _millennia_. By the time their first week of training is over, Arthur is about ready to put a seal on the door to the armory, because Merlin should never have access to a sword or crossbow ever again.  
  
That’s not to say that Merlin is _bad_ at it. Completely incompetent, yes. But bad? No.  
  
In the last week, Arthur has had to dodge a handful of misfired crossbow bolts. He has had to rouse Merlin from unconsciousness several times because Merlin has a nasty habit of knocking himself out with his sword. The only weapon that Arthur feels Merlin can safely use – and even that’s being hopeful – is a dagger. But Merlin doesn’t like weapons anyway. Arthur supposes it’s because Merlin himself is a weapon. So maybe his magic is rejecting blades and crossbows. Maybe.  
  
All Arthur knows is that he’s currently trying to wake Merlin up after he managed to flatten himself out with the pommel of his sword.  
  
“You know what they say,” Gaius says as he leans over Merlin, whose unconscious on Arthur’s bed with a mottled red and purple bump peeking out from under his hairline, “when you bleed on a weapon, it’s yours.” He grins good-naturedly at Arthur, who groans.  
  
“In that case, half the weapons in the armory belong to Merlin now. And what a terrifying thought that is.”  
  
Gaius chuckles and waves the smelling salts under Merlin’s nose. Merlin inhales sharply and his eyes flutter open.  
  
“How do you feel?” Gaius asks him.  
  
Merlin groans his response.  
  
“Yes, I suppose you do. Well, drink this,” the physician passes the sorcerer a goblet full of some sort of noxious mix that Arthur is just thankful he’s not required to gulp down, “and _stay still_. You’ve got a nasty bump on the head, and you need to recover. Broth and tea are all you should ingest until tomorrow morning.”  
  
Merlin groans again, but this time it’s in response to the smell of the remedy.  
  
Gaius’s eyes twinkle in amusement. “I suppose you should have learned last time not to swing your sword around so wildly.”  
  
“It’s not my fault it’s so blasted heavy,” Merlin grumbles. He struggles to sit up, clutching his head.  
  
“All the more reason for you to not swing your sword around like a child playfighting. Now _drink_.”  
  
In the end, Arthur has to hold a struggling Merlin down while Gaius tips the contents of the goblet into Merlin’s mouth. It’s a good thing that Merlin seems too weak and dizzy to blast them, because otherwise Camelot would have a very crispy prince right now. And Arthur doesn’t think that Gaius would be much good as court physician if he’s nothing but soot and ashes.  
  
Thankfully Merlin doesn’t retaliate by spatting the concoction out onto Arthur and Gaius, which is also a good thing because Arthur’s not entirely sure that this particular blend of herbs is meant to be ingested through the skin.  
  
Once Gaius sees to it that Merlin has some light broth and mild tea in his belly, he takes his leave with instructions for Arthur to not move Merlin. Which means Arthur is stuck with Merlin until the morning.  
  
He plops down on the opposite side of the bed, an overstuffed cushion clutched to his chest as he glowers into the distance.  
  
“You know,” Merlin says, much more cognizant now that the remedy has had some time to take effect, “this would have never happened if you hadn’t decided that I needed to learn swordplay.”  
  
“Don’t forget the crossbow,” Arthur snorts. “I sure as hell haven’t. I’m still amazed you never shot me, considering you shot everything else _except_ the target.”  
  
“I would never shoot you.” Merlin looks shocked by the idea, as if he hadn’t noticed Arthur ducking out of the way every time he swung the crossbow in the prince’s general direction. “It’s my job to protect you. I would never do anything to put you in danger.”  
  
Arthur raises an eyebrow. He’s pretty sure Merlin has inadvertently put him in danger on a handful of occasions.  
  
“I’d never do it on _purpose_ ,” Merlin corrects himself. “I know I do it on accident sometimes, but believe me, I’d never do it intentionally.”  
  
“I know,” Arthur says quietly. And he does know. Because he sure as hell would never do anything to put Merlin in danger on purpose. Except that he does. And that’s a crashing realization.  
  
Merlin doesn’t seem to notice that Arthur’s retreating into himself. Instead he continues on: “I don’t understand what the point of me learning to use weapons was. I have my own weapon – I _am_ a weapon.”  
  
Arthur swallows hard. He’s not sure how to explain himself, how to justify his thoughts. “It’s just…I put you in danger. Every time we leave the castle to go track down bandits or creatures like the griffin…that’s me putting you in danger. You’re not a knight, you’re not part of the army. You never signed up for this. The only reason you’re along for the ride is because you saved my life, so my father granted you the honor of mucking out my stables. If you died…it’d be my fault.”  
  
Merlin frowns. “But you know I can protect myself.”  
  
“I do know. I just…you’re not a trained warrior. And if something happened – if your magic suddenly vanished or you were sick or – or if something went wrong, I want you to be able to defend yourself long enough for me to get to you. Because I would never let anything happen to you. Never on purpose. I would die for you.”  
  
“And I would die for you,” Merlin replies as though it’s the simplest thing in the world.  
  
“No. You don’t – you don’t understand.”  
  
“Don’t I?”  
  
“No.” Arthur’s not even sure why he’s pushing the topic. He should just let it drop. He should let Merlin come to his own assumptions, let him think that the reason Arthur would die for him is strictly due to their friendship and the fact that Merlin has saved his life on countless occasions. But he doesn’t want to lie to Merlin. And he realizes with a gut-wrenching jerk, that he _needs_ Merlin to know, to understand how he feels. Because at least then Merlin might be able to comprehend just how deep Arthur’s loyalty to him runs, just what he is willing to sacrifice. And then Merlin will see why Arthur acts the way he does sometimes. “No, you don’t. Merlin – when I say I’d die for you, I mean…” A lump grows in his throat, and he swallows against it. “I’d give up everything for you. Possibly even Camelot.”  
  
It’s not exactly a declaration of love, but as Merlin’s eyes grow wide, Arthur thinks that it might as well be.  
  
Arthur holds his pillow even tighter for comfort. “Now you know. It’s why I tackled that bandit. I couldn’t let him get to you. I just…couldn’t. Most days it feels as though you’re all I’ve got. And I can’t lose that. I’d do anything for you, give up everything for you.”  
  
“So, let me get this straight,” Merlin says. “I’ve got this huge bump on my head because you’re in love with me?”  
  
“No. You’ve got that huge bump on your head because you can’t hold a sword properly. Your grip really needs some work.”  
  
“But you are in love with me?”  
  
“Yes, Merlin,” Arthur sighs. “I’m in love with you.”  
  
Before he can so much as blink, Merlin closes the distance between them and kisses Arthur. Arthur is so shocked that he lets go of the pillow, and Merlin takes advantage of the sudden space to crawl on top of the prince. Arthur can feel himself trembling as he reaches up to stroke his fingers down the back of Merlin’s neck. Merlin makes a little noise and pulls back, fingers splayed across Arthur’s chest.  
  
“Well, I’ve got good news for you,” Merlin informs him with a flicker of a grin, “because I’m in love with you, too. Even if you are an idiot most of the time.”  
  
“And you’re an idiot,” Arthur retorts, reaching up to pull Merlin’s neckerchief off, “but that’s all right. We can be stupid together.”  
  
“Sounds perfect,” Merlin agrees. “Just promise me one thing.”  
  
“What?”  
  
A smirk flashes across Merlin’s face. “That you show me how to adjust my grip.”  
  
Arthur can definitely do that he decides, as he reaches up to kiss Merlin enthusiastically.


End file.
